Born this Way
by Life's Crash Test Dummy
Summary: She hears the talk about her, blaming her parents for her being the way she is like she's Lauren Tanner or Kaylie Cruz or something. She just laughs when people make excuses for her. They're wrong. She's Kelly Parker. She's just born this way.


**Title: **Born this Way

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, obviously, because if I did then MIOBI would not suffer because the actors/actresses have such open contracts and so we only see certain characters ever four episodes or so.

* * *

**Born this Way**

There's a time where Kelly remembers being happy. No bullshit victories over the Rock girls. No smiling for the cameras and waving to the fans. No gymnastics. Just a single moment suspended in time where she was truly happy and it's so long ago, a memory so deeply embedded in the back of her mind that it almost feels like it never happened at all.

She remembers being an actual little kid, waking up with the sound of her mother singing the latest top chart pop hit (probably something by the Black Eyed Peas or OutKast – oh God) in her ridiculous Filipino accent and eating chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings. She remembers tumbling classes where nothing really mattered except literally having fun. She remembers her dad coming home at a reasonable time, kissing the top of her head and reminding her about play dates with Nicky Russo.

Those were much brighter days yet she was still fucking manipulative.

"All the girls at the party were pointing and giggling at me," an eight-year-old Nicky Russo complains. He pushes up his sleeve and scratches at an itch right above his elbow.

Kelly and Nicky are crouched beneath a table at one of the many parties their parents attend for show. She's in a little white dress with her hair pulled up in pigtails, sitting Indian-style with her legs crossed. Nicky is in a button-up shirt and khaki shorts, peaking out from behind the long tablecloth, looking out at the mingling adults in the ballroom.

Nicky turns an accusatory face to Kelly. "You told them didn't you?"

Kelly just shrugs innocently. "Duh. I told you I would, didn't I?"

"I thought you were lying," he grumbles. "You _always_ lie."

"I wasn't lying when I said your face looks stupid," she counters, flicking his cheek with her fingers. Nicky glares, rubbing the sore spot on his face as she smiles wide.

"If my face is so stupid then why did you kiss it last week when we were playing tag?" he asks snidely. "And then you told everyone after!"

Kelly just shrugs in a way that's way too cool for someone so young. "That's what best friends do."

"They do?" young, naïve Nicky asks.

"Yeah," Kelly answers surely. "We do."

…

Nowadays, there's no more waking up to the sound of her mother's singing.

She wakes to silence.

Unlike most kids, it's actually a relief when the Parkers finally file for that divorce.

Kelly suspects every family has to at least try. They dress nice and go to all their rich friends' cocktail parties together, laughing and smiling like everything is fine. They save the screaming and the fighting for behind the closed doors of their mansion. At least there's no breaking of plates or glass or anything important. Her mother has enough self-respect to refrain from being a complete cliché.

On the surface she's calm and collected and that really reflects how Kelly feels inside. She can't hate her mother for wanting more than a husband rooted in Denver by his work and a daughter rooted in Denver because of her gymnastics. She was a restless woman with a dream to travel and as a person who was taught to live by her dreams and for her dreams, Kelly couldn't hold her back.

In her room, pinned to the wall, mixed in with the snapshots of Kelly and Nicky throughout the various stages of their lives, are postcards from every place her mother has visited. In the beginning, they were frequent, but now she'll get one every few months, maybe from Milan or Melbourne. A card comes on every one of her birthdays and it isn't enough, but at least mother remembers. Less can be said for Daddy.

Normal kids would be bitter. However, Kelly Parker hasn't been conventionally "normal" since she was six and became serious about gymnastics. She doesn't dwell. She doesn't hate or resent. The sun still falls and rises and new days keep coming. There are other things Kelly lets herself ruminate over and her mother isn't one of them.

Still, she can't hear Black Eyed Peas song without thinking of her mom and dying just a little inside.

…

There's no chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings.

Kelly grabs an energy bar and is out the door, going to her real home – Denver Elite.

…

Tumbling classes have become girl games and mind-fucks.

Kelly knows she's obnoxious and, well, a bitch, but she takes pride in it. She takes responsibility for every every catty, brutally honest comment. She _owns_ it. At least she's straightforward about it. Kelly thinks a bitch deserves respect for telling the truth, but a sneakily bitchy girl who gets off on pretending to be innocent deserves to be backhanded across the face.

It takes a special type of person (a winner) to easily pry into the minds of the competition. It's an art to sneak under the skin of her fellow gymnasts (who are raised and trained to not engage) and seriously screwed up their game. Kelly doesn't _tell _people that she's the National Champion; she _shows _it. In the way she talks, the way she walks, the brightest of smiles and the whites of lies. She works just as hard mentally as she does physically to be the best.

She's aware it's twisted and almost heartless to say little snippy things knowing full well that these girls will obsess over every word, the meaning of her words and even her tone of voice. At the end of the day, teenage gymnast girls are still teenage girls. They think too much, usually about things that don't even hold much weight in the real world, and it distracts them. It throws them off their game and Kelly takes advantage of that.

When it comes to the girls, some fear her and others respect her. Kelly doesn't really give a damn which one it is as long as they know their place – far below her. None of the other girls can touch her and that's what's important.

Kelly doesn't let anyone get to her. The only exceptions could possibly be Marty and Nicky. Marty isn't afraid to bring her back down to earth, to tell her when she's performing like shit, to be fair and actually coach her. Nicky can completely undo her with a single look and she's glad he isn't a girl because competing with that effortless manipulation would be too much. They have power over her and, truthfully, Kelly doesn't mind because they're probably the only two that support her in this grade-B storyline she calls her life.

For now, Kelly Parker rules over the gymnastics world and that fact alone makes her life suck that much less.

…

Another unwanted change, her dad coming home at reasonable times turns into dad never coming home at all.

Dr. Parker is a legend. He's the best doctor at his hospital when it comes to Plastics and reconstructive surgery. Her father is the man who's literally making the world a more beautiful place. He's the one who has taught Kelly that success takes hard work and not to wait for anyone to hand you anything. That's why she understands when he can't make it to watch her compete because he needs to be in the OR or he has a consultation or he's on call.

Kelly remembers him being around a lot when she was younger, when he was lower on the hospital's totem pole. However, as he began to take more cases and earned respect at the hospital, he started working longer and most of the time Kelly didn't really notice, spending so much time in the gym. Once the divorce was final, it was almost like they lived in the same house, but completely separate lives.

She may understand, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

Sitting out in front of her house, Kelly sees the tall, iron gate in front of her colonial-style mansion though she doesn't let herself get her hopes up. Emerging from the dark is Nicky Russo with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He's slowly making his way up the long, cement driveway and Kelly tries to pull herself together before he gets too close.

When he's mere feet away, Kelly stands and feels his eyes roll up and down her body, taking in her appearance. She's wearing a color block mini dress with a sexy applemint bandeau, a solid phantom gray waistband that brings shape to her petite figure and a night jewel skirt with inverted front pleats. Her dark brown hair is down and her bangs are neatly combed diagonally across her forehead. She looks older than fifteen. That's for damn sure.

"Wow," she says, sounding genuinely surprised. "You showed."

"Parks," Nicky rasps. He nervously kicks at the gravel as he walks. "You didn't think I'd forget your birthday, did you? But with you texting me every ten minutes, how could I?"

"Wow, I didn't know it was such a chore for you," Kelly says venomously. She turns on the heels of her suede sandals and makes her way back to the front door. "You can go now."

"Kelly!" he shouts, reaching for her hand, but just missing her.

"I'll call you tomorrow. Promise," Kelly lies, already pushing the door open. When she tries to close it after her, Nicky manages to sprint up the steps and jam his shoulder into the door before it can close. "Nick, go away."

She hopes he doesn't hear the way her voice breaks, but of course, he does.

"I don't think you understand that I took the _bus_ to get here as in public transit, the damn RTB D from Boulder, and it nearly took an hour," Nicky says, trying to pry the front door open. "I sat next to a guy who smelt like piss and in front of a girl talking to herself for _you_. Turning me away now? Not cool, Parks."

Kelly pauses as if giving it thought. A moment later, she asks, "Where's my present?"

"If you let me in I'll give it to you."

It's suddenly so quiet. Kelly is only pausing for dramatic effect and she's pretty sure Nicky knows that. It isn't long before she lets up on her end and finally allows him inside. Kelly starts to close the door after him, but then Nicky unexpectedly sweeps her up into his arms. Only when she feels his warm body pressed to hers does Kelly realize how her skin is ice cold.

"Christ, Kel, you're freezing," Nicky says. He lets her down on her feet and rubs his large hands up and down her thin arms. He looks so concerned and Kelly doesn't have the fainted idea why. She's a bitch to him, to everyone. Why does he even care?

"How long were you outside?" Nicky asks.

"Since Daddy was supposed to pick me up for my birthday dinner at 7 and never showed," Kelly explains. She whirls around to look at the grandfather clock standing against the wall of the entry, laughing bitterly. "Oh, three hours ago."

Nicky sighs and wraps his arms around her in a warm hug. Kelly has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from breaking down right then and there.

"You spent three hours ago waiting outside?" Nicky asks, clearly hoping he had heard her wrong. Kelly squirms in his arms though he remains reluctant to let her go. "It's the middle of winter, idiot. Are you crazy?"

"Honestly, Nick? I didn't feel a thing."

Kelly carefully pulls out of his arms and walks over to the staircase, settling on a step. She presses her knees together and carelessly kicks off her heels. Slumping down a bit, Kelly just stares off into space. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nicky standing in almost the same spot she left him. He shoves his hands back into his pockets and awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Eventually he comes over and sits right beside her on the stairs.

"What excuse did he use this time?" Nicky asks.

Kelly sighs, letting her folded forearms rest on her knees. "There's a merger at the hospital and it's really been stressing him out lately. See, that excuse would have been semi-acceptable if I didn't hear his newest girlfriend giggling in the background."

Nicky winces and his face crinkles in that adorable way it does when he's trying to be compassionate. She wonders if he knows how much he makes her want to smile when he does that.

"How did he explain that one?" Nicky goes on to question.

"He didn't," she says, shaking her head. "I hung up because I knew if I didn't then I would have bitched him out. Now here's the kicker, he hasn't even tried to call me back. He doesn't even feel guilty for making me a promise, on my birthday no less, and breaking it for some cheap slut who's probably trying to get a free nose job out of him."

Nicky just frowns at the floor and squeezes her shoulder tight.

"That sucks, Parks," he says, finding himself at a lack of words.

"Damn straight," Kelly hisses. She swipes her fingers beneath her eyes, trying to eliminate the tears before they even fall. "God, you're the last person I want to see me like this."

Nicky laughs. He moves his hand from her shoulder to caress her frozen cheek. "More like I'm the only person you'd let see you like this."

He lets his hand drop from her cheek and when he does, Kelly leans closer into him. He turns into her to smell her hair and if it was anyone but Nicky Russo, Kelly would probably call him a pervert, stand and kick him hard in the shin. Instead she moves her fingers to fit the spaces between his. Her hazel eyes shift to look at him and he holds her gaze for nearly a minute.

"You didn't get me a present, did you?" Kelly asks him straight out.

Nicky laughs. "I might have."

"Well, where is it?" she presses, knowing his pockets are empty.

As cliché as it probably is, Nicky looks at her in a way that makes her feel like she's made of glass. He makes her feel so fragile and so transparent all at the same time. What scares her is that he's the only one that could possibly do what her parents have failed to do – to make her completely break or steer her onto a better path. The second he realizes this, (she works hard so he never will) Kelly is sure this boy will be the death of her.

Nicky leans in until their lips almost touch, but Kelly pulls away, laughing.

"No, Nick, don't you dare," she warns, giving his shoulder a light swat. "A kiss is _not_ a present. We aren't eight-years-old anymore—"

Nicky just laughs his low, sexy laugh before he angles his head and presses his lips to hers. Despite her words, she finds herself kissing him back with such longing because no one else can make her knees buckle just with the sound of his hot, husky breathing. He brings his hands to the soft curve of her hips and she lets her arms rest around his neck, drawing him in closer.

"Nick," she murmurs breathlessly once they pull away. He presses one last, soft kiss to her jaw. His hand on her waist moves to her thigh, rubbing these patterns against her exposed skin that sends little lustful currents all throughout her body.

"What is it?" he asks, looking up at her with his soft brown eyes.

She looks down a moment at the minimal space between them. She's never been shy especially with Nicky. On the contrary, even with him, with everyone, really, she's always had trouble with putting her ego aside.

"I just…thanks," she says, so unsure and so un-Kelly. Again, she's convinced this boy will be the dead of her. "I'm glad you took public transit for me…but it still does not constitute as a birthday present."

Nicky laughs. "What about the kiss?"

"What about the kiss?" she repeats, narrowing her eyes in a '_you're-kidding-right'_ expression.

"Fine. Come on," he says. Nicky stands, gently pulling on her hand, heading upstairs.

"Where are we going?" she whines just to be annoying and bring them back to some sense of normalcy after she tossed him the ever elusive t-word.

"For your _real _birthday present," he replies.

Kelly pauses a moment and she swears her heart skips a beat with the smoldering way Nicky's looking at her from the top of the staircase. She just gives him the smallest of smiles and follows him the rest of the way to her bed.

…

Play dates with Nicky Russo become a different sort of play and not dates at all.

"Lonely-No-More: A Dating Guide for Losers, huh?" Nicky asks, leafing through the pages of the book that he fished out of Kelly's gym bag. "Hmm, how did they know?"

Kelly groans and pulls the bed sheets over her head, snuggling deeper into the pillow beneath her head. She feels Nicky's cold, bare feet press into her warm calf and she giggles into the pillow because he can be such a girl sometimes. She peaks out from beneath the sheets and sees Nicky lying in bed beside her, in only his black boxers, leaving his lean, delicious upper body exposed.

"Shut up," Kelly snaps. She reaches out and hits the book so it falls from his hands. "Oh, and they got these for you." She reaches over to her nightstand for the bright orange, giant box of condoms and throws it at Nicky, rubbers all flying out, some landing on the bed and others falling to the floor.

"Alright," Nicky laughs. "Just don't throw the lip hair removal cream at me next."

"Ha ha," she murmurs tiredly. "That was excruciating. Nick, they played it on the _Jumbotron_."

"If it makes you feel better it got a good chuckle out of me," he says, smiling.

"Not that I can't use the stuff," Kelly says innocently. "I can easily re-gift the book and I'm going to bring the cream to the gym on Monday. I'll get that new kid, Eric Coldwell, total hottie, totally gullible, into waxing his chest and his legs with it. The next YouTube sensation. Calling it now."

"Denver Elite kids are weird," Nicky says, crinkling his brows. "Remember no logos when you shoot it. The last thing you need is bad press. Eric Coldwell, huh? I almost feel bad for the guy."

Kelly rolls her eyes. "He waxes because he thinks it makes him more aerodynamic. I think he's just a complete masochist. No sympathy required. He gets off on it."

"No, not because of that. Well, that," Nicky says, "but also because Kelly Parker has her eye on him. Dead Man walking."

"Just because I can admire a guy's hotness doesn't mean I want him," she explains. "Who do you think I am? A Rock girl? I have some common sense and self-restraint, give me credit for that. I don't do that lame ass Disney cliché naively-looking-for-love-at-sixteen bullshit."

"I knew you were smarter than that," Nicky says. He reaches out and tenderly combs her mussed hair away from her face, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. "So how's the ankle?"

"Fine."

They both know that it's code for _it fucking hurts_. It saves both of them from having to actually say it.

"And your wrists?" she asks in return.

"Fine," Nicky echoes in the exact same monotone way.

They're both shooting Cortisone and they both know it. They're the only ones who know each other's secret (and now Payson Keeler. Damn it). They've become such comfortable liars that it's almost frightening.

"I better go," Nicky says gently. "Training early in the morning."

Just as he's about to get out of bed, Kelly grabs him and pulls him back down. Kelly, proudly wearing his t-shirt that completely drowns out her petite figure, straddles his lap and brings her mouth to his in a rough, bruising kiss. The last thing Kelly wants, following that complete joke that was Nationals, is to be alone. She can't exactly say the words so she has to settle on showing him.

Nicky kisses her back (he's always been weak like that). As blissful and easy as it would be to just go on like this forever, they both know that's downright impossible.

"Kelly—"

"I know," she sighs against his lips, saving him the trouble of saying it. "You need to go."

"Not that I _want _to, but, because as pissed as I am that Austin Tucker snagged the gold and left me in _second_, tomorrow is another day," he whispers, kissing her once, gently on the lips and then lightly on the forehead. Kelly rolls off of him with a groan and Nicky stands, stepping back into his jeans on the floor. "Tell you what, I will give Kaylie Cruz hell for Nationals just for you, Parks."

"Why, Nick, that's the sweetest thing you've ever done for me," Kelly says with a sarcastic smile. "God, if only I could tell them that _you_ are the reason I have so much intel on all the behind the scenes drama that goes down at the Rock. Their faces. Classic."

"But you won't," Nicky says. It sounds more like a warning than anything else.

"No. I know how much you value your low-key existence at the Rock," Kelly says dully. She turns onto her stomach and watches as Nicky feeds his leather belt through the loops and secures the buckle up front. "Hey Nick, do you really think I should have won?"

She hates how soft and almost (God forbid) vulnerable she sounds. Nicky must hear it too because he stops what he's doing and he looks right over at her. She could be explaining some elaborate plan of revenge on the Rock girls or criticizing someone's outfit and Nicky would pretend to listen, distractedly thinking about something gymnastics-related. He never takes their talks very seriously, but _that voice_ gets his attention and quick.

Nicky sits at the edge of her bed, actually looking at her and maybe even thinking before he speaks. "Truthfully, I've never met someone more motivated and devoted to crushing the competition in every sense of the word. You take things to another level, Parks, sometimes _beyond_, but I think should have definitely won over Princess Cruz. Hands down."

"And what about Payson?" she asks.

"What about Payson?" he repeats, distracted yet again, reaching for his watch on the nightstand.

"Come on, Nick," Kelly says impatiently. "I want the truth."

"The truth is that Payson actually had a shot." Nicky nods to emphasize what he's saying. "She did. You'd be lying and uselessly defensive if you told me you thought otherwise. You know if Payson won you would have at least respected her for it. Now, Kaylie Cruz, talk about unexpected." Nicky scoffs. "Good enough for you? Now I gotta drive back."

"You want your shirt?" she asks, reaching for the edge of his shirt she's wearing, knowing full well that she isn't wearing very much beneath it.

"Keep it," he tells her, grabbing his hoodie and slipping his arms through the sleeves. He pulls the soft fleece the rest of the way over his head and gives her a smile. "You know if you take it off I might never leave."

"And that might be the point," Kelly murmurs, biting on her bottom lip.

"I'll see you later, Parks," Nicky says, leaning down to kiss her sweetly on the cheek. "And just so you know, despite that weird ass chicken move you did in the middle of your floor routine, I thought you were robbed at Nationals…and I'm not just saying it because we're screwing."

Kelly laughs as Nicky makes his way to the door.

"Duh," she calls after him. "And for the record, Nick, you're better than Austin Tucker. I'm not just talking in the looks department either. And I'm not just saying it because we're screwing."

He gives her one last smile and a slight wave of his hand before he walks out her bedroom door. Kelly just sighs and pulls her sheets around her body, shutting his eyes, letting the loneliness set in around her yet again.

She doesn't really know how they became this way, how they went from best friends sharing innocent, curious pecks on the lips to fuck buddies as they got older. If she really thinks about it, it's always been there between them – this need to support and comfort each other, yet they lack the proper social skills to do so in a healthy way. Still, it'd be a lie to say she wants things to change.

Kelly knows what she has with Nicky is _real_ in their sense of the word, but they're both so messed up that it doesn't really mean much. He isn't her boyfriend despite how quickly she'd say _yes_ if he asked. He doesn't love her no matter how hard it is for her to bite back an '_I love you'_ when he looks at her like _that._ It's just sex to him and so she pretends the same.

She knows all it will take is one girl, one girl to catch his eye (like Payson Keeler seemed to be doing pre-broken back) and then he'll be gone for good, permanently walking out that door just like her mom did, her dad continues to do and Marty would if he could ever get back in the Rock's good graces again.

Kelly knows Nicky Russo is just something else to lose, but she can't make herself let go of something she's considered _hers_ for so long. Maybe Eric Coldwell isn't the only one who's a complete masochist.

…

For the longest time, all Kelly has ever had was gymnastics and she fought tooth and nail to keep things that way.

One Nationals and one scorned Kaylie Cruz took that away. Kelly couldn't sleep for a number of nights after. As easy as it would be to score some sleeping pills, she doesn't take anything. Insomnia is her punishment for failure and Kelly takes it in strides. Kaylie Cruz, with real friends and relationships, the girl no one even thought was even in the running, left Kelly Parker with nothing.

A devastating, empty _nothing_.

No mother. No father. No Nation Champion title.

All she can seem to do is pick up, take it day by day and kick ass in the gym.

Nicky moves to Denver, but there's something different about him and Kelly's led to believe it's that damn Kaylie Cruz yet again. He's still her best friend and they're still having sex, but her childhood friend simply ghosts through her life, cold and distant, and she's too terrified to ask him to stay so she's forced to watch him leave her lonely every time.

Kelly doesn't blame anyone (though Kaylie Cruz is a nice-sounding scapegoat) for the way her life went from amazing to shit so quickly she barely got a chance to enjoy it. She works her ass off and she pushes and she doesn't stop moving. She's never been the type to let silly things like emotions and a personal life interfere with what needs to be done. She's a Champion. She doesn't need a title to tell her that. No one, no one from the Rock or from Boston, not even her faltering ankle will stop her from rising from the ashes.

It starts with petitioning onto the Worlds team and then hopefully, total domination.

She's going to take it all back. She has to.

She's Kelly Parker.

She's just born this way.

* * *

_Fini _

**Author's note: **So I just HAD to write something since Kelly P. was added to the characters in the drop-down menu. So if you ever wrote a Kelly. P-centered-ish fic, be sure to change the settings so it's easier to find. I know it's the title of a Lady Gaga song and probably has to do with Gay Rights, but I just had to use it here. Anyways, I start school on Sept. 27th so I'm trying to get all these darn pesky plot bunnies out of my head before then.

Btw, I am the _Dummy_ in **Creative Dummy** and I'd love for you loveliest to, if you haven't already, check out the **Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants** story with my insane and talented co-author B (who thought it would be funny to send me the YouTube link to "Birthday Sex" by Jeremih when I told her about the birthday scene in this oneshot. A sarcastic _thanks_ to B).

So…review, please?


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